


JJ's (Batshit Insane) Adventure

by henrywinter (bakkhant)



Series: JJ Style Week 2017 [4]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime), ジョジョの奇妙な冒険 | JoJo no Kimyou na Bouken | JoJo's Bizarre Adventure
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Crack, Crack Crossover, Gen, Honestly do not underestimate the amount of crack, JJStyleWeek, visually offensive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-29 20:51:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11448825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bakkhant/pseuds/henrywinter
Summary: Written for JJ Style Week, Day 4: Crossover.JJ's possibly coming the the end of his skating career, and is considering retiring.Then, he gets invited to a fashion show for one of the world's top brands: DIO BRAND.





	JJ's (Batshit Insane) Adventure

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GG](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=GG).



> I...don't even know what to say about this.
> 
> GG, this is 100% for you. You better enjoy it.

JEAN-JACQUES LEROY (AGE 24).

_Nationality: Canadian_

_Cancer_

_B-type (Blood)_

_Height: 178cm_

_Family: Both parents are abroad, accompanying his younger siblings to competitions. His wife of a year, Isabella, is in the US with a job._

_Current situation: Agonising whether to retire from competitive figure skating, or force himself through this nagging groin injury. Agonising also that, having stayed pure till marriage, the injury means he’s still pure._

JJ had received a nondescript black card in the mail a few weeks ago, gold lettering inviting him to an ‘exclusive, intimate fashion show’ in Cairo, ‘I Could Show You Za Warudo’, with ‘the world’s most notable fashion designers’. It’d been scented with a fragrance that’d smelled suspiciously like spilt wine.

Unconventional as the invitation might be - the word ‘DIO’ takes up more than half the space, which JJ assumes is a name, though when he’d quickly Googled it, he’d been directed to a series of heavy metal fan forums; his name is misspelt, too, as ‘JoJo’ - JJ can’t really pass this opportunity up. He might be retiring from his sport, after all, and that means he has to give promoting ‘JJ Style’ 110%.

He isn’t sure how to inform this ‘DIO’ that he’s attending, so he decides to just go for it, and turn up on the day. The journey to Egypt goes smoothly enough, but once he’s in Cairo, he hits a snag. The card’s directions to the venue are vague - and that’s putting it generously, when the only thing written that could remotely be construed as ‘directions’ is the single word, ‘ _come’._ Nobody he asks seems to know where it is, either.

He gets there in the end, a good forty-five minutes late. He’s worried that that’s too late, that the show might already have started, or even finished, but Fate must be favouring him, because he can spot someone lingering by the door. 

Hurrying closer, JJ blinks. The figure - distinctively male - is half in shadow, but he can tell that this man is _built_.  He can tell why he got the job as the event’s security guard. 

“Hey,” JJ says to him, showing him his invitation card. “This is the place, right? For the fashion show? I’m JJ.”

The man takes half a step forwards, and even though JJ knows he’s harmless, he can’t help feeling intimidated. 

“You,” the man says. JJ braves it and leans closer, but the shadows seem to cling to him unnaturally, and he still can’t make out this guy’s features.

“How _dare_ you “ruin” I, DIO’s dramatic, fashionably late “entrance”.”

“Oh,” JJ says, a bit puzzled but opting to go with the flow, “you’re Dio? Thanks for inv-”

“ _Wryyyy_ ,” the other man - hisses? screeches? snarls? …it isn’t a sound JJ’s ever heard coming from between human lips before. “My name is _DIO._ ”

“Um, alright,” JJ says, sweat starting to gather underneath his undercut. “I’ll just see myself in, then.”

To his relief, the interior looks like any other fashion show, though someone really went overboard with the Gothic theme. There aren’t many people in total - JJ does a quick headcount, and makes it eight people (who must be the ‘world’s most notable fashion designers’) shifting in their chairs, expressions varying from ‘bored’ to ‘fed up’ to ‘downright murderous’.

They turn out to be nice enough people, though, when he takes his place in the only empty space left. He marvels how they just _look_ like world-renowned fashion designers, looking round in awe, taking in the abundance of cleavage windows and the sweet sailor-themed outfit and - holy _shit_ , is that a one-piece snakeskin trousers _and_ boots, paired with a bold choice of purple-gold-green jacket? These guys really are professionals, JJ thinks, settling into conversation with his neighbour (‘call me Jonathan!’), who’s going all out with that thick, shapeless jumper. 

JJ doesn’t keep track, but it’s another forty-six minutes until the double doors burst open and the man he now recognises as DIO strides in, hair streaming behind him. He keeps right on striding until he’s on the catwalk; the room catches up to the programme, and falls into a hush.

“Welcome,” DIO says, “to an exclusive viewing of the new Spring/Summer “collection” of I, DIO’s clothing brand, ‘DIO BRAND’. And remember: if looks could kill, you’d all be dead. You despicable Joestars.”

The soft mountain of a man next to JJ - Jonathan - furrows his brown in confusion; another designer wearing a truly revolutionary scarf jumps up, all but shaking with indignation. 

“What does _that_ mean?” he demands, reaching into his pockets and drawing out - a pair of clackers? “Was that a “threat”, you bastard?”

JJ shares a mildly concerned look with Jonathan, glad that he’s sitting next to someone less…explosive. 

DIO looks the designer dead in the eye. “Yes. It was.” A few paces along the catwalk, for effect. “Tell me, Joseph, do you believe in “gravity”? That there’s a reason I, DIO, could over a hundred years ago harness the power of the “stone mask”, transcending mere human mortality to pull “Fate” backwards through time itself? That at the end of all thirty-seven worlds, I, DIO, have manipulated your entire detestable brood into your last, fatal “mistake”?”

JJ shares a majorly concerned look with Jonathan, who nods at him solemnly as if some unspoken agreement has just passed between them. JJ’s not quite sure what agreement, though.

“Joseph, that’s enough of this display,” Jonathan says, quietly but firmly, pulling him back into his seat. His tone turns confiding, “Don’t mind him. You know how they say that geniuses are always, well, in touch with their imaginations.”

Then he turns to the man posing on the catwalk. “You weren’t serious, were you?”

DIO eyes Jonathan back with an air of great disdain. “Of course I was,” he says, haughtily. “ _Nobody_ “slays” like me, DIO.”

And with that, the show begins. Bafflingly, it soon becomes apparent that the only model here is DIO himself, showing off piece after piece of - JJ can’t even tell, because it’s all so blindingly yellow. Several more love hearts and crotchless crotches later, JJ doesn’t even want to be able to tell.

What he really can’t understand, though, is how DIO is pulling this off - how can he have time to change outfits between the time he disappears through the curtains, and struts out again? Does he have identical twins? Alternate versions of himself?

JJ’s head is spinning by the time it’s over. 

“So what did you think?” DIO is asking his audience when he regains his bearings. “Any last words of praise before I defeat you once and for all?”

For some reason, he’s boring his eyes straight into Jonathan’s when he says that. 

“Oh,” Jonathan says, looking a little flustered. “Well, I don’t think I’ve seen anything like it before. It was very, um, well, very nice, um -”

A loud snort interrupts him. 

“ _Bullshit,_ ” Joseph declares.

“You can’t talk,” DIO says, with lordly composure. “You haven’t designed _anything_ “new” for yourself, have you?”

Joseph doesn’t seem to have anything say to that; JJ eyes him warily as he turns an alarming shade of purple.

“Give me a break,” someone mutters from behind him, and JJ agrees wholeheartedly. 

“Hmm, less golden, more ratio.”

“Actually,” someone else - he looks barely older than a middle-schooler - chimes in, “I liked it. It was a very beautiful Duwang.”

“A Joestar with “taste”,” Dio says. “Who would have-”

 _“Stop right there,”_ another breaks in, and JJ’s honestly getting whiplash from trying to follow this exchange. This one looks just as young, but something about him signals danger - or JJ might just have been scarred by a certain other blond child with an aura of steely competence. “Those outfits. You didn’t happen to have been on _drugs_ when you designed those, did you?”

(JJ’s definitely no longer sure he wants to seriously get into the fashion industry at this point. Maybe he should just stick to the skating.)

“Yeah,” the only girl in the room adds. “The language for this one is universal: what the _fuck_.”

Up on the catwalk, DIO appears to have been momentarily stunned speechless by this barrage of negativity. All he manages for a good five minutes is a string of incredulous ‘ _wryyyyyy!’_ s.

JJ feels a bit sorry for the guy, really. 

“It’s not too bad,” he offers, lying through his teeth. “All you need is a bit more _JJ Style_.”

“…Enough. Vanilla Ice,” DIO snarls, seemingly into nothingness, “kindly _escort_ these gentlemen out.”

Well, JJ thinks, at least that’s over. 

[Everything freezes and goes grey.

Subtitles: Jean-Jacques Leroy has RETIRED.]

**Author's Note:**

> :D
> 
> Gappy isn't here because he's the only one with even an ounce of common sense and got himself the hell out.  
> Or alternatively, he got lost on the way. He's still lost. Even now.


End file.
